


The Old Churchyard

by soprano_buddy15



Series: To Lay This Body Down [2]
Category: The Last Kingdom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Future, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Older Characters, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano_buddy15/pseuds/soprano_buddy15
Summary: I rest in the hope that one bright daySunshine will burst through these prisons of clayAnd the trumpets will sound in the hills near and farWill wake up the dead in the old churchyard.
Series: To Lay This Body Down [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978306
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	The Old Churchyard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java_Blythe_Peralta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_Blythe_Peralta/gifts).



> Here it is. 
> 
> My 50th fic. 
> 
> I am still astounded and shocked at myself. I remember sitting down and writing my first ever fic in my room at the beginning of May. It was so long ago, and so much has happened since then. 
> 
> This is truly the best fandom I’ve ever been a part of, and trust me, I’ve been a part of a lot. I have made countless friendships, have laughed, and cried, and learned so much.  
> I cannot even begin to thank you all for reading my fics. All of the comments, and the kudos, truly mean so much to me. I would not be writing this note if not for all of you. 
> 
> This is part 2 of a 2 part mini-series that I started. I would recommend starting with part 1, but by no means do you need to read it to understand! 
> 
> This work was inspired by the Wailing Jennys and their arraignment of “The Old Churchyard.” Like the previous fic, I would strongly recommend listening to the piece before reading. 
> 
> I want to thank the Enablers for all of their love and support through the many high’s and low’s of my days. I love you all, from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> And Java. There are no words to say how much I adore and love you. All I can say is that you are one of my most treasured friendships and I am thankful everyday that I get to call you my friend. I truly would not be writing this if not for you. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome! Just don’t be rude, because nobody wants that.

The ride from Eoferwic to Bebbanburg became longer every time he traveled the road between the two fortresses. His body was still stiff from the saddle and rocking gate of his horse. 

Who was he kidding? He was always stiff now.

He knew that it was time. It had been time for him long ago, but something had kept him here anyways.

Standing out, overlooking the walls of Bebbanburg, he felt a call towards the ramshackle old building they called a church. 

It pulled him, and he walked slowly around the edge of the building towards the back of the churchyard. Crosses made of two tree branches lashed together stood knee-high in the grass, some tipping over with age. The soft green grass was long, and blew softly in the wind. 

The sturdier crosses were situated at the front of the yard, names carved out in the wood. _Uhtred_. _Uhtred_. _Uhtred_. He supposed soon his name would join it as well. But he wasn’t here for them. No, he definitely was not here for them.

At the back of the churchyard, the crosses were fewer. Sure, there was Eadith’s. It was the newest, the wood still quite strong and not rotting away. Beside her was Ealhswith, Sihtric’s metal hammer hanging from where it was tenderly wrapped around the top of the post. His hand brushed over it tenderly, still remembering Sihtric grasp it between his hands so very long ago in the woods the day he had become one of Uhtred’s brothers. 

Osferth was buried there too, his marker simple and sturdy. Uhtred rested his hand gently on the post, straightening it from where the wind had tipped it slightly. 

He missed them. Of course he did. But there was a peace and a sweetness to their sleep that he desired. Their trials were over. 

He stopped, just at the edge of churchyard. From here, he could just see the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs. The sea was endless, and the sunset was bouncing off of the water and casting orange light all around. 

The sea was so vast. He took a deep breath, feeling his age creep into his bones.  
By the gods, he was _tired_. 

“Lord?” He looked towards the young man who gingerly walked towards him. He was wearing priests clothing. “I have a message.”

Uhtred frowned. The priest had an Irish lilt to his voice. “Who are you?”

“My name is Caelen,” he said. “I arrived only moments ago.”

“From Irland?” Caelen nodded. “Who sent you?”

He swallowed heavily. “The Abbot in my church,” he explained. “I was sent on behalf of Finan.”

Uhtred tried to stand a little straighter. “Finan?” He whispered.

“I’m sorry, Lord,” Caelen grimaced. “But he has passed to join our Lord just a few days ago. He asked for you to be informed before he passed.”

Uhtred had been expecting this, but it was a blow none-the-less. 

He was truly alone now. 

“Lord?”

He smiled, and fell to the ground when his legs gave out.

Caelen ran forward to try and help him. “Lord!” 

“Leave me,” Uhtred said. “It’s time.”

“Lord?” It seemed to be all Caelen knew how to say. 

He grimaced. “My name is Uhtred,” he said patiently. “And it’s my time.”

The poor priest was panicking and calling for help as loudly as he could. “Stop. _Stop._ ” He said again. He smiled wistfully at the tears in the priests eyes. “I’m so weary,” he explained. “Do not weep for me. I am anxious to go. I am _ready._ ”

An overwhelming sense of peace washed over him. He could feel the cold breeze from the ocean blow through his hair, and while it was cold enough to make him shiver, he could only feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

He grasped at Serpent-Breath weakly, his fingers aching and tight. He knew that he would be at rest soon, and tried to pull her out of his scabbard. 

Caelen placed his gentle hands over Uhtred’s, and without waiting for his permission, pulled the blade out of the scabbard. 

She was much thinner than she had been when he had her made. Countless times had he sharpened her blade, for many times had she had to cut through mail and leather to save his life and the life of his family. The amber in her hilt was still polished and shone brightly in the evening light of the setting sun. He rubbed his thumb over the cross that Hild had gifted him, so long ago on the beach after the darkest years of his life. 

Caelen helped him grab tightly to her handle, and Caelen sat back on his heels as the sun dipped lower and lower. He said nothing, but grasped his crucifix and closed his eyes. 

Just before he closed his eyes, the sun burst through the clouds and sent rays beaming across the stunning blue of the ocean. It made the hard clay ground feel soft as a pillow, and as he let out his final breath, he felt as thought he were rocking on a boat that was taking him to the beyond. 

****

Caelen sniffed and looked up when he heard Uhtred of Bebbanburg’s last breath escape him. His face was serene, a slight smile upon his lips. His hands were clasping his sword to his chest, the wind whipping his long hair about his face gently. 

He was gone. 

Caelen crossed himself gently and stood. Based on Finan’s stories of Uhtred, he knew that Uhtred would not want the last rites, but he could not help himself saying a little prayer for the man that he never truly knew. 

He prayed, silently, for just a few moments. He prayed for the everlasting peace of Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg, and that is soul should find the rest that he was desiring, wherever that may be. 

Taking one last look at the great man, he turned and made his way back to the main courtyard of Bebbanburg to inform his son.


End file.
